


Downhill From Here

by PaintedYertle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Afterlife, Brain Damage, Canon Disabled Character, Dream Bubbles, F/M, relationship hurtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedYertle/pseuds/PaintedYertle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By now Latula has come to terms with the idea Mituna is irreparable. Even if he, her Tuna, is still here, she feels a missing piece as she watches the boy she feels red for cringe from his burns. A time may arrive when he breaks something irreplaceable and she might not be able to forgive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downhill From Here

            It used to be that he was labeled the downer of her strange group of friends. And that’s implying quite a bit considering who Latula knows on the internet. After the rumors were spread around, like how he would stand on street corners outside his respiteblock and preach how the voices only he could hear foretold of death and destruction, and when no troll had bothered to listen he resorted to bombarding strangers online, she almost deemed him crazy along with her friends. Even so, none of them bothered to stop him. But Latula didn’t know. Those actions didn’t seem to out-do the annoying antics of other six sweep old boys. Really, she’s okay with it.

            Maybe it was just that she was simply used to the concept of imminent doom more than the others. Mituna Captor seemed like an alright dude.

            Latula had been outside the social loop after being caught in the current of her own drama. At the cost of one of her senses to come back to her own  she stayed off the internet for some time and dedicated herself to what she was meant to do, looking after her lusus. Living alone in her treehive since adolescence, she seldom had the physical company of others. Balancing scales in place seemed more simple than doing the same with her friendships or life.

            But whenever she was by herself in her hive and felt obligated to communicate with someone, anyone, Latula turned on her husktop and an irked groan formed in her throat in preparation for the upcoming conversation. Some of them would tell her was to not let her new “disability” stop her from being happy. And while she appreciated the worry her rad pals displayed for her it was not something she wanted to be reminded of. So she showed them, through text, her happy smile. Colon, hyphen, square bracket.

            As soon as she kept in touch with most of her friends again she’d been hearing they were beginning to meet up in the real world. More interactions would arise in the wake of Meenah’s coronation. Latula’s hive was ranges away from theirs, nowhere in the nearby radius. They were offering go out of their way just to visit her. And Latula did not feel like faking a smile in person.

            She logged on to Trollian late in the day, when everyone was asleep, wanting to be the only one in the chat so Latula could at least tell her friends she tried. But upon arrival the sidebar held her username and a familiar yellowish-brownish one. Leaving immediately after logging on would look rude.

            Mituna talked to her, but this time he was not preaching another hymn of a “prophesy” involving the end of their world or the like; he was just just checking up on her like the others. Then he asked where she was. In theory, with his psionic abilities, he could cut the trip in half and arrive here the fastest.

           She told him you dont h4ve 2 com3

41R1GH7. Y0U D0N’7 W4N7 M3 70?

N4h 1t 4in’t th4t. our m33tup w1ll b3 the STUFF OF L3G3NDS, BRO!!!!!!! >:-]

but don’t you l1v3, like, tot4lly out th3re 1n th3 c1ty? W4Y out of my l1v1ng sp4ce? Th3r3’s not 4 s1ngl3 bu1ld1ng n34r h3r3

4 B17 0F 4 7R1P, 1’LL 4DM17, BU7 7H3R3’5 W0R5E. 1’M 5UR3 17’LL B3 L355 71M3 7H4N 50M3 0F 0UR FL1GH7 D3F1C13N7 C0MP4N10N5 

1’V3 G07 3N3RGY 70 SP4R3.

41ght. sounds coo1

            It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to visit her place for a meetup, she’d love to chill with all of her rad companions from Trollian, but this visit would mean he would be the first.

            At this time in the warmer parts of the sweep the sun set much later into the evening. It wasn’t something she was used to, being up this early or catching a glimpse of the sunset. Early in that evening she woke without any bright light creasing through her window, only thick indigo clouds. No sun to worry over but an incoming storm that would keep them inside, just how Latula preferred it. She rose from her recuprecoon and stumbled to pull the shades closed. In her early-evening stupor she was also dripping with slime. She needed to wash off and make herself look nice without any of that grody lipstick she was not skilled enough to apply.

            Latula gave a good look around her hive. Numerous copies of GameGrub and GrubGrl strewn amongst the floor. Husktops, consoles, and their wires entangled and bound down. This is all suitable for company, right? She hadn’t known. Even so upon preparation for her few visits during the sweep she keeps the place as neat as she can, even if not doing so would be the perfect middle finger to the highblood snootypants who come to check up on her. But from what she gathered Mituna was the type to not mind one way or the other.

            The sky was completely dark and it had begun to rain when Latula waited outside on the steps of her wooden balcony, keeping her sunglasses on anyway (because they looked cool and shut up). She knew of his arrival with when she saw, in the distance, a flash of red lightening and an unnatural rustle in the trees. Latula jumped up from the stair she was sitting on to stare at the rising smoke almost too thin to see. No thunder came to join the lightning. Latula had planned to make her introduction with a complicated mondo sick grind down the ramps she built around her tree as her first entrance, with no doubts in her mind as she flawlessly accelerated onto the rail. Instead she pulled on her boots and ran into the rain.

            Through the woods Latula lost sight of the trail of smoke. She was unable to determine the scent of the smoke she knew must have been there. Nor the damp woods or the rain dripping from the petals. It would not be urgent as long as Mituna was safe and the doomsday scales held a skull and her unhatched dragon lusus.

            Latula called out his name. She listened for any unfamiliar or unnatural sound. Above the thrum of the storm was a high pitched whine, similar to one of the guns on a fleet ship. It was something to follow, and it did not prevent her legs from moving in that direction.

            The closer she became the greater and more alive the sounds were. She could hear a faint buzzing in the atmosphere. Looking up to where it came from, she saw Mituna, recognizing the parts of him she could see in the dark from the profile pics they traded. His four pointed horns, his sharp teeth, the design of his outfit resembling his sign. His back was turned to her. It was darkening but bellow the troll and his yellow striped shirt contrasted with the muted blue and pink in sight.

            “Hey, Mituna!”

            Mituna turned at her voice. Sparks were crackling around his head. Through her tinted red glasses smoke was rising from a charred spot on one of the trees. His feet were levitating from the ground. She was familiar with the powers and abilities of the psionic class, but this was the first of her witnessing one upfront. His shaggy hair covered up those infamous bifurcated eyes but they continued to glow beyond it. It was his right eye that caught hers the most. The red one. It was the eye of the prophets.

            He fell and sunk into the mud. Latula approached as Mituna struggled to push himself up from the ground.

            “You alright?” she asked. He did not answer, but Latula could see as she moved closer he was twitching and quivering. When she knelt down beside him to help him up, touching his arm gave her an electrical shock. It was a small one but felt as raw as her singed nose.

            Mituna managed to get to his own feet, seeming disoriented, but the way he moved forward on his own and kept his jaw tight hinted he was held together. Latula instinctively took his shoulder to help, and he leaned into her.

            He looked directly at Latula, and she did not know quite what it was, but there was something about hiding the pupils that hid so much or felt blank.

            “Hey,” Mituna muttered in-between flinches, “have I mentioned I’m not too good with water?” Latula could not decide if she should laugh. Now would be a good time to put on her smile. In the slight panic of the situation she had forgotten.

            She could feel his body tensing again and again on her skin as she walked with him. Maybe it was this condition or maybe it was this cold downpour.

            “C’mon, we’re getting close to my hive.”

            Once the two were there Mituna strayed from her reach levitated above her again. He floated up the tree. Latula spun around and darted up the steps, skipping two at a time not even slowing down at the sharp turns on the way. He was waiting for her at the top, leaning on the rail. By now his psionic eyes had dimmed somewhat and glowed through his hair.

            “You got here first. You cheated.” Latula breathed out.

            He grinned, his sharp teeth poking out. “Was this a race?”

            Latula couldn’t prevent a real wry smile. He looked like he’d been too cooped up in his own block to partake in exercise. “You didn’t _fly_ all the way from your pad to here, did you?”

            “Mm-nn. Only p-partway.”

            She held a hand up for him to high-five. It took him a moment to register the intent but when he held his hand up Latula hopped into the air and slapped it. “BOOYAH! Survival!”

            Opening She opened the door to her block. Mituna was led into her washblock, where he immediately found one of her towels to dry his hair and skin of. He looked up in the mirror to Latula, who was standing in the hall tying her wet straight hair up. The lights in his eyes were now normal in contrast to the bright bathroom light and he himself appeared more stable than before.

            “Good to meet you in person, Latula.” Mituna said, offering the towel to her.

            “Same to you, brah! I’ll give you the tour of the old place!”

            His glance wandered around her place, from the EXTREME sports posters hung on the walls to the colorful carpets she installed. Mituna’s hand traced down the light blue bark of the host tree.

            “Ever see a tree before?” Latula asked.

            “Not really. They plant little ones on the street corners. But they’re not this color.”

            “What did they smell like?”

            “Smell like? Uh, like leaves I guess?”

            It occurred to her she hadn’t planned in advanced for this encounter as much as she thought. There was only just enough space for two people. Latula sat at the edge of her pod and Mituna gravitated to her desk for her husktop to show her games and videos. In a short while she was the one who took over the conversation while he vaguely responded with nods and comments, though not disingenuous. While they began set up a game for two player, the hiss of wind crashing through leaves continued outside. It was dark now. With the warm air and the sun officially set sounds from creatures in the surrounding area came through her open window.

            “Can’t your lusus fly?” Mituna asked, turning away from the screen only momentarily.

            “Yeah, Baby’s this mondo knarly dragon that soars through the sky. Has these wicked eyes that can burn your eyes out of your gourd when you when you look too close. Eyes like the _sun_ , man.” she hopped from her pod to search for a bean chair, a current of slime sloshing beneath. “Ain’t that rad?”

            Mituna glanced out the dark window, closing it because Latula had forgotten and the rain was blowing in. “She’s not coming inside soon, is she?”

            Latula let out a wild little snicker that would scare away timid creatures. “Nah, she ain’t even hatched. Beforus bigwigs that dropped me here stuck her egg on this on this scale out in the woods, and when it opens the world is supposed to end or somethin.”

            “And you’re just here on your own?”

            Latula nodded.

            “That doesn’t bother you? Being alone like that?”

            She waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I’ve been like this for a while now. That egg is balanced out by this wicked Mother Grub skull.” Her hands stretched out for contrast. “Sent Porrim a pic. She’s on the same page. So badass.” She had found a dusty turquoise bean chair in her closet, dropping it on the carpet. “So yeah, I dunno if it’ll ever swing down to hatch in my lifetime. Sides, I got hella lots of responsibility anyway, what with seven whole blood classes under me and all. But don’t worry ‘bout me, it don’t get lonely ‘round here. Not when I got such _radical_ buds like you on Trollian.” Latula leaned over to lightly punch Mituna in the arm.

            Mituna nudged the rolling chair away from the husktop with his foot. His back slouched and he set his elbows to his knees like he was contemplating something. It showed Latula how thin he was, not in the sense he hadn’t been eating but just that his height thinned out the rest of him. Her eyes could spy the notches of his spine through his shirt. Latula imagined she could snap him in half by slapping him on the back too hard. It contrasted a little with what she had seen in the woods. Mituna’s own power could shield his knowledge of his disadvantages.

            “Are you counting Kankri in there?” he asked.

            Her back flopped back down.. “Yeah. Why, do you think I’ was counting myself?”

            Mituna rubbed the back of his neck, leaning his spine back on the chair. “No. I have to consider him too. It’s just some trolls don’t.”

            “Well he’s a chill lil’ dude. And even when he don’t got to worry about nobody he sticks his neck out.”

            “Yeah. Those are definitely some remarkable qualities.” His tone dropped to a low bitterness. Mituna rolled back to the screen and returned his focus back to whatever game he was setting up. He seemed rather solemn. “I mean, it’s not like we have to worry about shit like that for long. We’ll all be gone by then anyway.” He was no longer looking in her direction.

            She was keenly aware of his mood swings, but they manifested on Trollian as either ignoring her messages or an abrupt goodbye. Here in front of her there was no barrier in between. Did she say something wrong? Is this a social subtlety she missed?

            “What do you mean by that?” Latula asked.

            “I hear things.” His hands fidgeted. “I hear voices. Damara tells me she hears them too, but it’s different for her.”

            Latula rose from her chair and stood near him. “What kind of voices?”

            “Just- Augh!” his hands flew up in frustration. “Voices! Any kinds of voices! What other kind could there be? Well, I mean, what I mean to say is, they’re the voices of the _dead_ , Latula, but they haven’t died yet. And for some reason that just makes it worse. There’s so many of them and all they ever do is over each other so most of the time I can’t even make any of them out. It makes it so difficult to _think_.”

            Latula leaned into him. “You mean like a bunch of voices crying out at once and then suddenly silenced?”

            “Yes, exactly.” He turned to her again, and even from underneath his hair she could interpret she was holding up intense gaze between them, like some kind of mutual understanding. He held it with her for a silent moment before she broke out into laughter. 

            “Dude! Dude dude dude. Was makin a hella legit reference there. _Troll Star Wars_ anybody?” She waved her hands in emphasis of the joke.

            “Oh. Oh right! Yeah. Obviously. I’m so stupid for not getting that.” He laughed a bit, not something she was used to coming from him. “But yeah. That’s how I know the world is going to end.”

            “I kind of sort of heard about that.”

            “ _Heard_ about it?”

            “That you were talking about it to people on the street.”

            He almost smiled but he hid it. “That’s something I did when I first moved in the city. I wasn’t used to all the trolls and I hear more voices in crowded areas. Sometimes they get mixed up. I thought I could try to help them or something. It was stupid and embarrassing decision. Now I’m pretty much used to it.”

            “Y’know what Mituna? You’re pretty chill.”

            They sat down and pressed start on their game. Ironically, it revolved around a green blooded troll roaming around a haunted mansion. It did not seem to bother him, maybe because the ghosts here were portrayed in a more jovial light. Games can help them forget.

                                                                                                **

            In this pocket of the void, time and space was unlimited. After the first impressions brought initial wonder and possibilities there was little to do afterwards but wander about.

            Back in his life it was always _death death death you’ve got to watch him or they will kill him this is a game of survival do you understand that don’t take your helmet off you spaz do you want to crack your head open and die it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long._ Since they’ve been severed from the living and demise is no longer something to escape from it has lost its bite into something mundane.

            Which isn’t so bad, since there’s little he remembers anyhow. His name is the clearest thing. Mi-tu-na. Wait. Mi-tuna. Mi- ** _tú_** -na? Well, there goes that.

_(Tu-na. Babe. Tuna!)_

            He doesn’t remember the majority of time he has spent here. It all meshes together with the occational moment slipping through.

            Sometimes he encounters the others. A couple of them he’s okay with, some he loathes, and most of them he’s all mixed up on. Damara hasn’t spoken to him since before they arrived here, or maybe before the accident. Kurloz makes him feel how he used to, and Meulin can be nice when she’s with them. So can Porrim but to the extent that makes him feel small and stupid. Kankri wants to be nice, he thinks, but Mituna gets lost in the lengthy frame of his words after he goes on for a while. Everyone else is too preoccupied with themselves in one way or another to notice the tiny yellow and black striped blip in the area. They talk, they walk by, he is ignored.

            Today seems to be another wandering day. That is, until he hears the _tha-thump thu-thump_ of rolling wheels on the bridge. When he turns the necessary degrees she’s in the air performing a trick. Her hair rises up and she has that grin he sees speckled throughout his past. She sticks the landing, cruising on the ground before jogging over to where he’s standing. She kicks the board into her hand, showing off the intricate dragon imprint under it.

            He has a muddled recollection of how or when they became matesprits. The heated red feelings had stayed with him for a long time. It must have happened after or during the Game and the “accident”. Happened after he got hurt and uses her love as a gauze bandage.

_(though lets face facts she could obvwiously do better)_

            Latula waves over to Mituna. “Hey bro! How’s it hangin’?”

            He isn’t sure how to answer. There are times he isn’t certain if she’s a dream. “O yeh you did a bang-thup job  wisth I were ass as….asth…i-its… _fuck._ ” The word wouldn’t come to him. He tries to think of it but it seems to have disappeared from his vocabulary. Mituna knows. He knows he _knows_ it. “Sound it out, babe.”

            “rrre raa miiiriad irad"

            “Rad? You mean RADICAL?” She guessed it before he could hit himself on the head to rattle out the answer

            “Yah,  I-I thing…”

            He can’t prevent his thoughts and words from meshing together.

            “Nice! There’s nothing I agree with more. You wanna give it a try?” Tula asked, walking closer to him, nudging the skateboard near his toes with hers. Through locks of his hair and the color of his visor he looked down at the board. The top part of it had Latula’s sign she also had emblemed on her chest. His hands became more twitchy than usual.

            “Nooooo,” He said, hoping that hadn’t come out as a whimper, “I’ll jush faul over a-again.”

            “Nah, don’ worry, chillout babe. I promise I got your back.” She reached out a hand.

            Mituna did not mind her touch. It always meant well. What he couldn’t stand was making a mistake front of her, even knowing she won’t call him stupid or dumb or all those other synonyms which summoned Kankri’s whistle.

            He placed one foot on the rough top of the board. Even with light pressure Mituna applied the wheels shifted back and forth left and right. When he takes the other foot off the ground and has nothing left to hold him Mituna grips her hand so he won’t run away. Latula stepped to the other side of the board and moved her hands up his arms.

            “Ready?” she asks,

            Latula yanks him up before he answers. He gasped. One side of the skateboard swung up and Mituna slammed his foot down onto it to keep balance. When they help pull at each other her square shades slip down her nose, unveiling the blank eyes under them. Each had the dark mark of half a zero underneath to highlight the circle. All of them had those marks after the adventure, or maybe they were there in life too and no one noticed. Mituna sees zeroes all the time.

            “Woah! Don’t worry. I gotcha.” Her grip was tightening. Mituna wasn’t liking the constricting feeling it so he squeezed harder to match up with it. His balance was shaky at best and roved from side to side. His world was shaking again, just like when it ended.

            He used to fly. Now it’s so painful. Why can’t he fly anymore?

            “I cannnn’t do it.” it almost sounds like “I can do it” if not for the distress in his tone. “No no no no.”

            “It’s okay, you’re doing boss!” She also had strain and he didn’t like that, “We’re just going to move. Just a little. Just an inch.”

            Beneath the fear and anxiousness all in and out of his head Mituna wonders if Latula’s been hanging out with Porrim. This method is usually how Porrim encourages along. Also, how many centimeters or meters or liters or feet are in an inch again? Mituna swears, not so much under his breath this time. They all go together like a scratched CD. All those colorful words and slurs entangles and become undone and rush out of his mouth with a line of drool.

            “Alright. Okay. Chill.”

            Latula rolled him over slow as gravity. “That’s it,” she whispers,

            Over his muttering the shaking swivels to one side. Mituna stumbled off the board again, but with her holding on it doesn’t hit the ground this time. The board flies to one side into the grass.

            “Tu-Tula I s-s-thar-“

            “What are you sorry before? You didn’t wipe out!” Latula pushed her shades back up, with a real smile in her expression. She had a hand on his waist. He looked up at her, his feet, the board, the shoes covering his feet and the jumpsuit, hand clamped on her arm. He pulled it off, one finger at a time. There was a crease on her sleeve where his fingers gripped. Latula almost reached up to rub the mark but leaves it, returning her hand to her side. She looks at him as if he didn’t see that. This is a memory he will forget too.

            “My first outing didn’t go so hot. All it takes is practice, if you wanted to, Tuna.”

            This was the Tulip he knew, the same as from that other time and place. Sometimes she’s a different Tula. Cranked up Tula, who moves and acts and speeches and rushes around the place in the loudest way possible. Like she has no other choice.

            He shrugs. “Yah, shid, maybe.”

                                                                                                       **

            “Oh no…” Latula said, her words coming out through a sigh. The water rose closer to her bare knees the further she dipped into the brook. Underneath the water and the bridge’s shadow was one broken half of wood and wheels. The other half was nearby, with a jagged wood break decapitating the head of the printed dragon she had been searching for.

            Latula removed her gloves to pull this half of her board from the water. Lifting it up, it was logged with water. She turned around to return to the grass next to the river she left her boots. Before she could feel anything soon she noticed a presence nearby of her long-haired feline friend standing on the bridge. Latula flicks on her winning straight-toothed smile.

            “Sup, Meuz?” she called out louder than the rushing water but smack anyone’s eardrums in radius, but so she can read from the distance, “I didn’t see you comin’!”

            Meulin is leaning on the banister, staying still in balance. “Did something happen?” she asked.

            Latula wiped the grass blades off her feet on the wood steps on the bridge, still holding on to her shoes and board halves where Meulin’s line of sight was. She straightened herself out, pulling her glove over her chipping nail polish, not sure if she could meet her gaze.

            The bars on the bridge tell a story. They have marks on them matching up with the pieces chipped off on of one of the halves.

             Mituna had borrowed her board again. Each of them needed a distraction from the monotony of the afterlife and developing a hobby would usually do the trick, even if Mituna was never good at any of the ones he tried. But luckily any injury would heal immediately. Hours after lending her board to her matesprit, Latula went off to do something else on her own. Now only the wheels on the skateboard worked the way it should and Mituna was nowhere to be seen.

            “Nah man, it’s no big,” Latula said to Meulin, “We all trip out sometimes, even a rad boarder like myself. I could always think up another new board. Hey, you see Tuna round?”

            With Latula’s sleeves and leggings rolled up and dripping wet the air felt colder than she knew it really was. Meulin grinned in the shape of that sideways three feeling like a happy grin x2. Meulin knew Latula wasn’t the one to break her skateboard.

            “Aw, he isn’t with Purr-loz today.” said Meulin, “I’m surrrrre he’s somewhere fine. He can’t get hurt anyway.”

            “Yeh. Alright. You’re right.” Meulin snatched both halves of the damp ruined skateboard. She held them up in her hands to from a oval broken heart.

“The two of you are the best long-lasting ship!” “Sometimes it’s best to forgive and forget.”

            Latula grinned wider, almost painful. “Thanks. You’re a chill bud. High five!” Latula raised her hand up, Meulin slapping back with XTREEM force.

            Pulling her boots back on Latula walked of the other end of the bridge, leaving the broken ends in Meulin’s hands. Perhaps she’ll make use of them as a scratching post.

            Mituna had good and bad days, and so did she. Sometimes when they were together she could be her true self, playing a round of MegaTroll all perceived afternoon in their perceived hives, so close to what she remembered in life under one thick layer of jumbled experiences and spoken innuendo

            Playing video games seemed to be the sole ability Mituna stayed good at. Sometimes she sits beside him while he has a controller in his hand, the helmet on the floor to view the screen better. , and looking at him from behind his form fit back into his former undamaged image. She loves this enough to want to rest her head on his shoulder, but fears touching him now might startle him and would smash his focus. Judging by the state of her board, today seemed to be another thrashing, tense, exasperating day.

            When wandering through the land looking for Mituna he was not in his usual spots. Hiding, possibly. Latula stopped off to her own home, the treehive in bloom. She stays outside, better than going in her room with the junk on the floor and growing resentment for the gamerGrl posers taped to the wall. It gives her room to think, which she needs for constructing a physical object from mere thoughts. It won’t be

            By now she has come to terms with the idea Mituna is irreparable. Her nose, Meulin’s ears, the scars most of the alternate Rufioh’s show off, time has not grazed them. Mituna may have even gotten worse. Even if he, her Tuna, is still here, she feels a missing piece as she watches the boy she feels red for cringe from his burns. A time may arrive when he breaks something irreplaceable and she might not be able to forgive him.

            Aranea claims it to be “inoperable damage and liable for risk, situation not improved by current post-mortem status”. To which Mituna replied “Th-That meanth I’m thit outta luck, aren’t I?” When he said that it almost felt like he was whole again. He doesn’t hide honestly with long words or syllables.

            Sometimes that’s life, or rather the afterlife but there’s hardly a difference anymore. She’d long stopped keeping in mind how long it’s been since they arrived in the bubbles. Even the more punctual and attentive members of the team have difficulty keeping up (Damara must know, given her Aspect, but must keep that fact with herself to toy with her peers). In the intervening time they all watched universes web together, their species reborn, develop a civilization, and implode on themselves. In that time, none of them have healed. They made popcorn in the wake of this fresh team’s inevitable loss. 

            While sitting there she conjures up a board pristine from memory, as well as a second new yellow-striped one. Hers now lacks he scuff or scratches or that one purple smudge and toothmark on the edge from when she caught Cronus calling Mituna an undesirable word. Packing them into her sylladeck she ventured off again. It was some time and distance before she stopped.

            She caught him sitting in a tree not in his land but her own. From Latula’s view, he had become a tan dot in the patches of blue trees made of brain stems. In the sky above brain synapses pulsed like lightning. When she climbed up the branches she was careful to approach in front of Mituna so he would not be disturbed. When he saw Latula, he jumped anyway.

            “T-th-tulip!” Mituna sputtered, thrashing back on the branch. Latula offered a hand but he looked away and rolled to his feet. “I-I dithin, wen di you, fug fug fuc-”The way he backed away may have frightened the both of them. Maybe he assumed she was upset through her lack of a smile. “You mad?”

            Latula sat down to his level, near her very best friend. She sighed. The honest answer was “a little”. “Do you even know what I would be upset about?”

            His mouth seemed to be caught in his words. She changed the subject. Mituna could see the new unbroken board under her arm. It might have confused him.

            Clasped in one of his hands were crushed yellow flowers. They were plants Latula had never seen in person, and could only take a guess who’s memory it belonged to. It was a brilliant golden yellow. “Are those yours? Did you think them up?”

            “Itz naht-mine. Never bean her-ere, but I thing bout a picthure in mah think pan.”

            He slowly extended his arm to her, the petals crushed and bent at the stems. Tulips. “Oh,” she said, taking the in her own.

            Felt the smooth surface under her gloves, the plant’s usual offer rendered useless with her deadened sense of scent. Flowers are pointless no matter the recipient, only a placeholder of delicacy, but Mituna put such literal thought into them. She took off her glove to feel the texture.

            “Noth mad?” Mituna asked agan.

            Latula began a small grin, “It’s already covered, babe. I got it all fixed up.” She offered the board to him.

            “Butth your not mad a mmme?”

            Her arm with the flowers slumped at her hip. He doesn’t seem to remember what he did, only the wrong of it. “You’re not what I’m mad at.”

            Even with his helmet on and eyes covered she noticed the blankness in his stare. It seemed to be a circumstance present in every timeline. “Whell I’m thorry anyway.”

            Mituna turned his head around, like this was the first time seeing the flowers in her hand. Grasping the stems, they were real.

            Her hand reached his for support, “Then we’re all good.”

            When they climbed down from the tree to find solid ground to practice tricks on more shocks of tulips were found on the path. These flowers were not common on Beforus, so neither of them had seen them in real life. But the imagined image of it showed up here and there. As Latula helped Mituna improve his half-pipe skills she thought flowers must they must smell bad when they rot. They must be pretty when they dry and stay the duration of forever.

                                                                                             **

            The stars are out of place. Right now they don’t care whose fault that is, or what pattern all those dots were placed in before. There is no need for directions or predictions here. No need their former ephemeral lives.

            For once, as Mituna watches up there with naked white eyes, he is sure this is not his mistake. He once had all the stars visible from his planet memorized. Mapped out in the red and blue of his vision. It is not so clear anymore.

            His helmet is off to the side while ‘Tula threads her fingers through his head of hair on her lap. After cooping themselves up all day in a double-date double-team match of Troll MaryamKart against Rufioh and Horuss (the latter of which was worst player in the group, but at least didn’t cheat like Meenah) they needed to be outside in the ageless expanse.

            Mituna’s hands are twisting over each other. Latula has a smile and it looks too tender to be false.

            There is no sound anyplace, but even lying down his headache is returning. Without his helmet he is off balance. It could have something to do with the “rotation” or “gravity” somehow in the bubble. There are cracks in his skin, and oh yeah, he has scars doesn’t he? How did he get those again? Maybe from lightning or his psionics. Maybe from trauma or voodoo. He can’t remember maybe he should ask

            FUCK FUKE FUCK! _No._ Don’t ruin tonight. Don’t worry her. Don’t make her smile harden like sap.

            “Thulip,” he says, making it quiet to hid the anxiety but that backfires, “Why d-do yo like me?”

            Latula didn’t respond. Looking up from where he could see underneath her profile it all looked the same. It was enough time for all those words and fears and suspicions to feed off him.

            “I like you cause I like you.” She said, “I like you because you’re my closest friend, but you’re also more than that.”

            There’s a limit to every reach. His happens to be from his brain matter to his skull.

            “I’m thorry.”

            Twirled a lock of it, something she’s done to herself when she’s anxious.

            Her fingers brushed through his hair.“It’s alright. I don’t like you saying things like that. There’s nothing you did wrong.”

            “ _No._ I’m not thorry from _me._   I’m thorry _for now._ ”

            “For now?”

            “For where I am now.”

            “Oh. For being dead? That’s not-”

            “ _Noooooo!_ I’m sorry for being like I am.”

            Her head lowers to his removing her glasses and setting them by his helmet, their foreheads touch. She’s careful the six sharp horns between them don’t poke any of them in the eye. Her arms are firm around his jaw.

            “You’re always still you. No matter what. It’s as simple as that.”

            It’s reassuring. He knows the feeling and memory will be gone by next sunrise. His brain’s ultimate concern is always right here and now. So he forgets to worry about the future while the past fades to bits.

            From here there is only somewhere. That’s bearable as long as someone’s next to him while the journey happens.

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta say it's pretty easy to write a ship where the couple has had no interactions in canon, lol. Been putting this together for a while. I wrote most of this in my notebook during spanish class instead of taking notes. Just like a real grown up. :D


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